


Distant Thunder

by PazithiGallifreya



Series: Halordin & Badari [3]
Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings Online
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-06
Updated: 2017-10-06
Packaged: 2019-01-09 15:32:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12279357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PazithiGallifreya/pseuds/PazithiGallifreya
Summary: The world may or may not end soon, but Halordin & Badari are determined to face Fate together.





	Distant Thunder

**Author's Note:**

> [Ali](http://eomer.tumblr.com) and I co-wrote this for our LotRO characters.

Badari was exhausted, but there was little rest to be found and far too much still weighing on her mind to let go of that coiled knot of tension inside her.

The walls of Minas Tirith still stood... mostly. There were chunks missing on all but the highest circles, now, and she tried not to think about what else had been destroyed. Sauron's armies might have been pushed back for the moment, the oppressive clouds of ash gone from the sky, but the threat was far from over. The whole world seemed to be holding its breath at the moment and Badari herself struggled to fill her lungs.

It didn't help that her ribs were most assuredly a very interesting color underneath her heavy armor, the padded gambeson beneath the plate and mail had been no match for a troll's club. It had been a glancing blow, poorly aimed, but she had none the less been thrown several yards and landed badly. That didn't include all the numerous other small bruises, scrapes and cuts that littered her skin. She prodded at a gash on her cheekbone, wincing at the sharp stinging pain and fresh trickle of blood. The skin around it felt inflamed and she resigned herself to the fact that she'd probably have yet another permanent scar.

She'd caught sight of Halordin and his beloved lynx companion on a lower tier of the city at the end of the siege and had no doubt the elf was still in rude good health. They'd gotten separated during the battle, pulled apart by the chaos despite all of her attempts to stay by his side. He had a knack for getting himself into absurd situations, after all, and Badari had made it her personal quest to keep the elf's head and other appendages firmly attached to his body. She'd grown quite attached to all of his bits, somehow, that fluff-filled head of his most of all.

Thankfully, he had just as much of a knack for getting  _ out  _ of absurd situations as well. Badari spent several long minutes leaning against the stone walls of the city, trying to catch her breath and make her head stop spinning. The battle seemed to have tilted the whole city to one side, somehow, and the sky another.

“Bloody elf. Bloody cat. If that cat hasn’t kept him in one piece, I'll be wearing a lynx-skin cap tomorrow...”

Grumbling to herself, she pushed against the stone until she was more or less upright with her weight centered over her feet. She should head up toward the Houses of Healing, but she couldn't contemplate that yet. She needed to find Halordin.

She stumbled and listed from one side of the street to another as she made her way down through the city, trying to ignore the overwhelming scent of blood and gore, and the motionless masses strewn across the streets and alleys like the toys of a spoiled child after a tantrum.

The stars were once again visible in the sky above, but the livid red glow to the east still pressed against her consciousness like a leaden weight. Darkness seemed to seeping into the edges of her vision despite the fires still burning throughout Minas Tirith. Figures moved past her, few pausing to pay any mind to her at all, and she let them pass without looking up. Booted soldiers' feet, message-runners, ordinary townsfolk rushing home to find what may or may not still be there, and who may or may not still draw breath.

She did not care to look up at their faces anyhow, at the anguish and relief in equal measure. Their temporary victory had been bought in blood. She knew of the Ring, of the quest of the ring-bearer and his kin. She was one of the very few who did, having run errands for Gandalf the Grey (now Gandalf the White), for Aragorn, for his Rangers, for Rohirrim and various others. She and her companions seemed to be in the constant orbit of something much larger these days, circling but never quite crossing a story she'd likely never know the full truth of. But nonetheless, it gave her hope. It was a small hope, but hope nonetheless, and she tried to remember that it was not all quite over yet.

Where the bloody hell was Halordin, though? The ground seemed to lurch beneath her feet. She scrabbled at the wall for a handhold, but it seemed to be made of wet glass and her hands could not find purchase. The darkness that had been hovering at the edge of her vision bloomed and the flagstones rose to greet her.

The last thing she felt was a pair of strong hands catching her by the shoulders and lifting her up, and a familiar, calming scent filling the air.

 

* * *

 

Badari woke to the sensation of movement, a gentle swaying and the feeling of being held. It took effort for her to lift her head from the shoulder it was resting against. She was cradled in Halordin's arms as his long strides carried her further up through the city.

She blinked back tears as the pain in her head throbbed with each step. Once her vision cleared, she looked up at Halordin, who had not apparently noticed she was awake yet. He was covered in the filth of the battlefield, but did not otherwise seem to have come to any great harm. A small cut over his right eyebrow had already scabbed over.  _ Lucky cow of an elf, _ Badari thought,  _ he always slips out of harm's way _ .

Badari considered making herself known. Normally if she thought she might even slightly have a chance of being able to stand on her own feet, she'd make him put her down. She wasn't one to allow others to nanny after her or coddle her. She was hardly a spun-glass trinket to be kept on a shelf. If she were being carried by anyone else, she would certainly protest, but at the moment she didn't mind. She breathed a silent prayer of thanks to the Valar, to Eru, to who or whatever might be listening that Halordin was still with her. Everything else seemed to pale in comparison to that simple fact.

They'd flirted and kissed their way across half of Arda in recent months, routinely gaining the jeers and protests of their travelling companions and her long-suffering sister's rolling eyes. It was almost a game between them, of sorts, a way of laughing in the face of the doom that threatened them all. She told herself this was so, at any rate. She pushed aside that little voice within her heart that whispered to her of something much more profound. She was not quite certain of Halordin's feelings and dared not let herself acknowledge what might turn out to be utter futility.

They must have finally reached whatever destination he'd chosen, as he shifted her weight up to one shoulder, propping her against his side, cradled in one long arm with a broad, long-fingered hand supporting most of her weight by wrapping itself around her bottom. She felt her face flush with slight embarrassment, although she didn't exactly  _ mind _ , per se.

He took her through a doorway into an expansive room of some sort. She cracked one eyelid open and gazed about the central space of the Houses of Healing. Neither stopping nor slowing, Halordin carried her through until they reached an isolated room in a far corner of the space that was currently unoccupied. There was one slightly crooked bed inside and stacks of crates containing supplies of some sort, and a layer of dust over everything. The room was poorly lit, with only one small, high window, and had clearly been relegated to storage for some time. 

Halordin set Badari down upon the bed and she gazed up at him as he began to efficiently divest her of her layers of armor and padding. _He was a healer first_ , she thought to herself. She'd almost forgotten after months of almost endless fighting. He had tended to her scrapes and bruises over campfires more than once, and she still had vivid memories of the time he'd had to set a broken arm for one of their (vociferously protesting) companions, but she always thought of him more as a sort of creature of nature. He spent his time with animals more than he spent his time with people, although he was friendly enough with their rag-tag company. He was constantly half-distracted, trailing off mid-sentence to go stick his nose in a shrub at the side of the path they were travelling or to hare off after some wild animal that had caught his fancy. But then, he also wielded flame, wind and lightning against their foes and commanded his loyal lynx in battle through some means she'd never gotten a satisfactory explanation for.

Badari drifted halfway in and out of consciousness as his hands moved over her, calloused from handling a staff and from long years of travel, but gentle. Images floated through her mind, memories that were not quite dreams. An alcove of natural stone and a pool of clear water, being wrapped up in his cloak and held in arms that had made her feel safe for the first time since she'd left her home and kin. In all their months travelling together, she had never told him how much she remembered, or that she remembered at all. He never said anything of it, so she'd concluded that he had either forgotten, or had not recognized her.

They'd met long before that day in Bree where she'd come upon him tackling a large group of bandits with his lynx cat, their numbers overwhelming him before she'd stepped in with an axe in each hand, shouting her battle-cries as she hewed their legs out from under them. She certainly recognized him, that day, but he'd betrayed no knowledge of her, introducing himself after the surviving bandits had fled as if he'd never seen her before.

She watched him wearily as he worked over her, dabbing an herbal concoction across her scrapes and cuts, no matter how small or inconsequential. A line appeared between his eyebrows as he pressed at the deeper cut over her cheekbone and she swallowed a gasp before it could escape, not wanting to distress him further. He met her gaze for a moment and forced a crooked smile, meant to reassure her, no doubt. He did not hesitate, though, as he cleaned the cut out with the efficiency of long experience, scrubbing dirt and pulling debris away from the torn flesh. Finally, he stitched her back together before she had much time to complain.

He hesitated only momentarily before pulling away the remainder of her clothing, cutting away the cloth binder over her breasts as he had done once before, what felt like a lifetime ago. This time, he did not stop there. After a moment's hesitation, he stripped away her breeches and smalls as well, looking her over for further injuries. She ought to feel exposed, but did not. His face reddened momentarily but he said nothing.

Badari pushed herself up on her elbows to look up at him as he milled about again in the crates stacked against the walls. The ache in her head had lessened, although her ribs were still complaining with every movement. She wanted to reach out to him, to pull him to her, although she was not sure why the need had come over her so suddenly.

He must have heard her movement, glancing over his shoulder at her, his hand still digging through a crate. He blushed again, his ears turning an attractive shade of pink that made Badari stifle a chuckle (laughing was always a bad idea with ribs in the condition hers were at the moment).

Her elf coughed slightly, something seemingly lodged in his throat. “I... ah...”

He left the crate and turned back to her, suddenly grabbing a dusty blanket folded at the end of the bed and spreading it over her before slipping out through the door without comment. Long minutes later, Badari was about to get genuinely annoyed with him, feeling slightly abandoned. Finally the door banged open and Halordin backed into the room dragging a sizeable basin. Steam filled the room.

He looked askance at her, not quite comfortable, it seemed, with her total nudity. She thought a healer would be less bothered with such things, but who knew how it was with elves? He scratched at the back of his head and gestured vaguely toward the wooden tub.

“Might help?”

Badari rolled her eyes and slid to her feet, wincing as the pain in her side flared at the movement. Halordin must have noticed the stiffness of her movement as she felt his hands at her elbow and shoulder, supporting her as she tried to wrestle herself over the side of the bath. After a moment of watching her struggle, he hoisted her up by the armpits and lifted her over the rim. She flailed and shouted at the surprise of the movement and water sloshed onto the flagstones. Such infrequent displays of his strength always came as somewhat of a shock to her, even after having known him for over a year, as he always seemed so stretched, thin and insubstantial to her.

_ Bloody elf. _

It didn't take her long to settle back into the warm water and for the heat of it to seep into her abused and overworked muscles. Halordin stepped back and perched himself on a crate, his eyes wandering about the room, intent on looking at everything that wasn't her, it seemed.

Badari dipped her head under the water, letting it soak into her hair and beard, which had become quite matted and filthy over the course of the battle. She eventually had to come back up for air, though. She turned inside the voluminous tub and leaned over the side.

“Don't suppose you found any soap?”

Halordin jerked out of whatever thoughts he'd lost himself in and looked at her as though he'd forgotten she was there. “Ah... maybe?”

He stood and began sifting through the crates again, digging through several before he found something suitable. He handed her the soap and turned his back to her again.

Badari began scrubbing the soap through her hair rather inefficiently as her ribs continued to protest her movement. Her companion wandered to the other side of the room. Something about his apparent embarrassment began to annoy her. She wanted him beside her. She couldn't think of anything she wanted more at the moment, somehow. The last remnants of the battle's adrenaline had seeped away and the reality of the aftermath was creeping in behind it. He could have died. She could have died. They could both still die, yet, before this war came to an end, and indeed it was far more likely than their survival.

“Halo...?”

His ear twitched at her voice and he turned slightly but not fully toward her. “Hm?”

She hesitated, unsure of herself. Would she just make him more uncomfortable? Would he leave? Would he resent her? She ducked slightly, hiding herself against the side of the bathtub.

“...never mind.”

He turned a touch more, appraising her from the corner of one eye. “What is it?”

She shook her head, unable to give voice to her thoughts. Tears pricked at her eyes as pain and exhaustion sapped her courage.

Sighing to himself, Halordin returned and knelt at her side. She looked at him and reached a hand up toward his face, but not quite touching him. He tilted his head slightly at her odd gesture. “What's wrong?”

She wanted to just reach out for him, pull him to her, but her hands gripped at the edge of the tub instead as she stared intently at him. He suddenly leaned over her, gently grasping both sides of her face and looking closely into both of her eyes, one at a time. Badari blinked in confusion, and only became more confused as he leaned back and held up one finger in front of her. “Just... follow me,” he said, as he moved the finger back and forth slowly, then up and down. She followed him, but her confusion rapidly approached annoyance.

“Is this some kind of game, ye daft elf?”

He shook his head at her. “Not really. Just... not sure how badly your head was hit. Wanted to.. make sure?”

Badari rolled her eyes and gave a slightly disgusted huff. “My head is at least as hard as yours, it takes more than one smack from a troll to addle my wits.”

“Hm. So your head's fine, alright. What's the matter then?”

Badari scratched at her wet scalp, running her fingers through her saturated hair.

“I just... I'm just... glad you're not dead, okay?”

Halordin laughed so hard that he doubled over. Badari flipped a handful of water at him and he laughed even harder, standing up and turning away from her.

_ Big mistake, that,  _ she thought in the direction of his back. She leaned up and grabbed the back of his tattered and soiled robe, hauling him backwards over the rim of the tub. He fell ass-first into the water, long gangling limbs flailing over the edge and sending another cascade of water onto the floor.

He sputtered and finally regained his balance, flipping himself like a wet cat onto the floor. Badari peered down at him placidly. “Well now that you're wet, you might as well join me.  _ Somebody _ needs to wash my back for me, eh?”

Halordin's expression took on a keen edge as he looked over at her, apparently considering something. Eventually whatever deliberation was taking place within him came to its end and he stood, nodded at her and stripped off the ruined garment and everything beneath it.

Now it was Badari's time to blush. She forced herself to not look away and also to not stare at what happened to be more or less eye-level now. He was hardly the dwarven ideal, after all. He was tall and thin and well-muscled, but after months of short rations he had no extra padding left to speak of, not that he’d begun with much. A scar ran across his torso that Badari filed away to ask about at some later time when she had the mental capacity to spare. At the moment, something in her brain seemed to have left for lunch, leaving her more or less speechless.

She'd thought about it, before, had stolen the occasional glance at his bare back as he rinsed down in a river during their travels. Other more private thoughts might have possibly rattled about her mind in the dark hours of the night (not that she'd ever admit to such a thing).

Badari turned and leaned her elbows against the edge of the tub, the water no longer just barely tolerable in its heat, but settling into a comforting warmth. She felt him slip in behind her. The tub was large, but not really large enough for two, yet somehow he managed to arrange himself around her without making contact. She wasn't sure what she would do if he actually did what she was adamantly not thinking about, and at the same time she wanted to push back against him herself.

She was spared further deliberation as he began working more soap through her hair, his fingers against her scalp in gentle circles. He worked his way across her shoulders as well and the upper part of her back. He hesitated over her battered ribs but made short work of the rest, although she noted he did not quite reach any further south.

She was nearly drifting to sleep when he finally pulled her shoulders back to lean against his chest, giving her another pang of déjà vu. His voice floated through the haze around her mind as he worked soap through her beard. “Do you remember Mirkwood?”

She breathed in deeply, wondering if it was a good idea to answer that question. That time had remained unspoken for so long, neither of them ever acknowledging it. She felt almost that they had agreed without speaking not to discuss it, or the odd moment of intimacy at the end of their time together there. She'd almost convinced herself that he didn't remember. She'd almost convinced herself that it had never happened. She sighed, closing her eyes and tilting her head back to give him better access to the task at hand. “Yes, Halordin, I remember.... as if I could forget such a thing.”

He leaned forward, cupping his hands and letting it rinse through her hair, repeating the action until the soap was gone, then leaning forward with her until her beard was in the water, working his hands through it until it was clean. He leaned back again and let her loll against him, feeling his breath and heartbeat.

He began working the soap over her skin again, although at this point it was largely superfluous as she'd washed thoroughly already. She let him do it anyway, his hands gentle over skin. The feel of him pressing at her sore muscles nearly brought her to tears, the relief was so intense.

His hands began to linger over her more than was strictly necessary and she wondered what his intentions were as he ran a soapy palm under her beard and across her throat, then down over her breasts. The first hints of desire rose in her, but she dared not act upon it. They'd done this much in Mirkwood, after all, and it had led to nothing more. She'd felt safe in his arms then, and felt safe in his arms now. Elves were a strange people, though. Dwarves had their own funny ideas about sex, but Elves were even more reserved, from what little she'd gleaned over her travels. It wasn't something they did on a lark, to say the least (not that it was something she did, either… so far).

Her musings were interrupted when he stood up behind her, water raining down over her as he stepped around her and out of the bathtub. Badari sighed and stood as well. The water was growing tepid and she'd lingered long enough anyhow. She hesitated to turn to him, unsure what she would see in his expression. Extra blankets made do as towels and she kept her gaze upon the floor as she wrung the dampness out of her hair.

She still wasn't sure what their relationship was. When she was honest with herself, she knew she loved him. She tried to tell herself it was friendship, that she loved all of her friends, but she loved him in a way she'd never loved any of her many friends. She would not be parted from him again, unless he rebuked her and sent her away. They may not have much time together regardless, if the halflings' quest failed.

He reached out to her and he took her hand. She allowed him to lead her to the bed and guide her to lay down on her belly. She had no idea what he meant to do but decided she'd allow whatever he wished. She heard him shifting about in the crates again, then the scent of mint and athelas filled the room. He began massaging the balm over her bruised ribs, the pain making her cry out momentarily. Warm lips kissed the soft place between between her shoulder blades, soothing her until the athelas began to take effect.

Crawling in bed beside her, the heat of his skin against her back soothed away the lingering pain as he curled around her, pulling the blanket up over them both.

 

* * *

 

 

In the quiet of the small room they were nestled in, Halordin relaxed beside his lover, but found sleep to be evading him. With a quiet sigh, he draped his arm over Badari’s side. He felt for her arm in the dark, and began stroking it in long, soothing movements. It had been a long, bloody, and trying day. He mentally cursed himself for allowing Badari to be separated from him during the chaos of the battle. He remembered how panic had replaced his brief burst of bravado once he realized she was no longer fighting beside him. And lastly, Halordin remembered the aching relief he felt when he found Badari moving about the streets alive, albeit injured.

A shift from Badari brought him back to the present, and he adjusted his position, letting her resettle on her back before curling close to her once more. Both her hands curled up to rest on her sternum, and her eyes opened to stared up at the ceiling, almost thoughtfully. The moonlight, freed at last from the smothering black smog of the days before, shone through the high, narrow window into their room, casting pale light across them. Halordin curled and wrapped his arms around her, resting his head against her shoulder.

“I...I’m glad you’re alive too.” He murmured after a long moment. “I searched for you everywhere. I prayed that when I found you, you wouldn’t be a corpse.” His voice broke slightly near the last words. Badari sighed deeply, turning so that she faced Halordin. She gently placed a hand over his cheek, sliding the pad of her thumb across it repeatedly.

“I’m here now, Halo.” She kissed his nose. “You’re stuck with me after all.”

Halordin chuckled. He pulled away from her just then, propping himself on his elbow as he looked down on her face, studying her. To his eye, she looked ethereal in the moonlight. In this moment, her beauty rivaled anyone he’d ever seen. He lifted a hand hesitantly, one finger resting at her temple, then slowly tracing down the contour of her face. Badari relaxed into the mattress as Halordin did so. His fingers glided over her cheekbones, then down her nose, where it at last rested on her lips. With a smile, Halordin lowered his head to press his lips against hers.

They kissed softly for a moment, then he pulled away. His fingers combed through her copper hair, stroked her beard. He hesitated for only a moment before letting his hand move under her beard, over her throat and across a collarbone. His face blushed an almost comical shade of pink as his hand accidentally glided over her breast. By then, Halordin realized he was more or less hovering over her.

A familiar need blossomed as he was mentally swept back to one particular afternoon in Bree-Land. He’d been wrestling with her that day, when he’d suddenly found himself wanting to do rather more than just simply kiss. His inexperience and the knowledge of his people’s customs had held him back, but he often thought about might have been that day if he’d not lost his nerve. Badari had not pushed him away then, would she today? A theatrical cough beside him brought his attention back to the present. He met Badari’s questioning gaze, her expression something like curiosity or impatience, or perhaps both; it was difficult to tell in the dim moonlight.

“Are you alright, Halo? You’re pulling some strange faces.”

Sighing, Halordin nodded, “I am, I am. You know me, always drifting.” He laughed, seemingly at himself, and an amused huff was Badari’s reply.

“Yes, you certainly have a habit...”

Halordin leaned over her again, brushing his lips against hers. “I’ll try to remain in the present more often.” He kissed her then, long and deep. He shifted, nuzzling her cheek, then kissing his way across her skin while he stroked her. Aware of a growing urgency, he drew in a deep breath and stopped what he was doing, resting his forehead against Badari’s.

“...I love you, Badari. I love you rotten,” he breathed. Why should he hold those words back now, when they were true? He couldn’t recall when he first felt this for her, but for a long time it seemed, his heart would leap whenever he glanced at her. A drive to hold her forever resided in his heart. Was this love, then? He thought it could be.

Halordin glanced at her face, which seemed a bit flushed from his attentions. She smiled up at him. “Rotten am I? Good thing I love a rotten elf, then. More than anything in this world...”

Halordin’s smile widened, his pale green eyes shining with affection. He knew he wanted to be with her. The unwelcome thought of his people’s customs when it came to marriage and sex came unbidden just then. The different rings used, the wait, and being proclaimed married when couples laid with one another. What was it like for dwarves? Halordin had spent too much of his life on his own, perhaps, far away from his people, away from their customs. Sometimes he’d almost forget he was an elf. Where such rules even relevant when he no longer considered himself a part of their society? There were precedents, of course, in times of war & trouble, where the more ceremonial aspects were dispensed with and no one questioned. But the fact that his intended was a dwarf...

“You’re doing it again.” Badari’s voice cut through his rumination.

“Ah, apologies.” He cleared his throat, shaking the last of his hesitation off as placed his elbows on each side of her, planting a kiss on her lips again.. “I...I want you, Badari…. Forget the customs of my people, I don’t want to hold back anymore… But if you don’t, I will respect that, I will...” He held his breath, waiting.

Badari laughed, hooking a hand behind his neck and pulling him down to give him a bruising kiss before letting him go, slightly dazed.

“I thought you’d never ask, quite frankly. Not that I mind your people’s customs, necessarily...”

Halordin chuckled and shook his head, slightly disoriented from Badari’s rough kiss. “Fair point, why should you anyway?” He replied, the quip going over his head. He shifted, pressing against her more firmly, though taking care not to aggravate her wounds, as he melted into her arms.  
  


* * *

 

Halordin nestled his head on her chest, his heartbeat slowing finally as a contentedness settled over him. His nose nuzzled into her beard, breathing in her familiar, comforting scent. She reached her hand up to lovingly stroke his long, silver hair.

Time drifted by as they laid together, Halordin letting his heavy breathing gradually slow down, before rolling himself to one side and stretching out on his back as well as the narrow bed allowed. A comfortable silence settled over them, broken only by their breathing and the distant sounds of the activity beyond their closed door.

“I’m surprised no one’s come barging in yet. I should think the Dark Lord heard your caterwauling.” Badari quipped, breaking the silence of the moment.

Halordin, still euphoric from their unplanned lovemaking, couldn't contain the laughter that burst from him. His arm flopping over his eyes as his body shook with mirth. Seeing him like this, Badari couldn't entirely stifle a giggle of her own.

Halordin finally got a grip on himself, wiping tears from his eyes. “Unless I posses the memory of a fly, I recall you were not entirely silent either.” Blushing, Badari huffed, flicking Halordin’s ear with her finger and eliciting an “ow” from him.

The couple curled close to one another once more. Halordin turned and gathered Badari up, wrapping his arms around her stout frame and resting his chin on top of her head as she pressed a few more lazy kisses onto his throat. He reveled in this moment, idly stroking her hair. Sleep gently tugged him towards its embrace. “Melleth nin,” he murmured. “I will safeguard your heart from now on, and treasure and cherish your love. And you will always have mine.”

He was asleep already before Badari’s reply came, but she gave it regardless. “You will always have my love, also. And anyone who tries to part us can discuss the matter with the blade of my axe.”

 

* * *

 

Badari was nearly asleep when a thought occurred to her. She reached out in the dark, giving her dozing partner a sharp poke. “So... shall I take your last name or shall you have my clan? They might just call you a Longbeard in dwarven circles anyhow, I’d wager....”

Halordin raised his head, brows furrowed. “If I take your clan name, does that mean I will have to weave myself a beard?” he asked tiredly.

Badari snorted, the mental image of her fair elf sporting flowing facial hair amusing her. “Oh, I’m certain there are merchants who sell false beards somewhere.”

Halordin seemed to sleepily consider this for a moment, before nodding his head. “Alright. We can go searching for one in the morning.” He yawned, letting his head fall back onto the pillow.

Badari blinked in confusion. “Wait. Are you serious?” Halordin's soft snoring was her only answer. 

 

* * *

 

For the first time in days, the dawn greeted the battered city of Minas Tirith with a soft blush of pink. The fields of the Pelennor reeked with death and decay, while the damage inside the city was not much better. There was much to be done before anyone could think about what was next for the war against Sauron.

Halordin and Badari both volunteered to help and were immediately set to work on clearing rubble from the streets on the fifth level. Badari’s injuries were proving to be a hindrance; Halordin bade her to rest often, much to her chagrin, but her aching wounds were glad for reprieve. She was beginning to suspect that her bruised ribs were possibly cracked but kept her complaints to herself. The pair worked throughout most of the day, from morning until afternoon. The overseers of the cleanup directed them to clear more rubble, put out small fires, and to round up stray horses, among other things.

Halordin grunted as he hefted another crate of recovered provisions onto the stack for later sorting. Wiping his dirty hands down his tunic, he took a moment to observe the surroundings. Badari was not far off, splashing water from a bucket onto her face and neck. Verya, who had faithfully stood in front of the door to their room the other night, was lounging on a chunk of stone looking content as she basked in the sun's rays. Satisfied his loved ones were in sight, he climbed a nearby flight of stairs to perch himself on the wall. He leaned over and watched the movements of the lower levels below for a time, but inevitably his attention wandered eastward. While the sun was out and the sky was blue again, it wasn’t hard to make out the heavy smoke issuing forth as Orodruin belched fire in the distance. Halordin couldn't tear his gaze away and fragile lightheartedness he’d clung to all day crumbled. He couldn’t forget his dream of seeing a certain halfling curled up and bound in ropes in a dark tower. So lost in thought was he that a sudden movement to his right caused him to jump. 

“Relax, love. It’s just me.” Badari soothed, taking a seat on the wall beside him, Verya joining her.

Blushing, Halordin scratched the back of his head. “Apologies, you startled me out of my thoughts.” He met her gaze, and his blush deepened, turning his pointed ears pink. A knowing, loving look passed between them, the memory of last night still fresh in their minds. Perhaps not everything was so grim and hopeless. The dwarf he now considered his wife leaned against his side, content to have him near once again. “Penny for your thoughts?”

Halordin took her hand, his thumb rubbing the back of it in circles. “The battle has been won, albeit with many losses. But the war isn’t over. If Aragorn and Mithrandir don’t decide on a course of action soon, the Dark Lord will muster his strength and strike again.”

“I’d wager he will strike again, no matter what decision is made. They must choose the manner in which to face it. But that is not for us to decide. Should we choose, we may follow where they lead, or turn aside. But we still have time to ponder that.” Badari sighed wearily. “Always you must dampen the mood with your melodramatics. We have the remainder of the day to rest, we should at least attempt to do so.”

Halordin said nothing for the moment. His worries would not allow him to rest, it seemed, no matter what Badari said. She watched him for a moment, unsure of what would comfort him best. “I saw a tent being erected just outside the main gates earlier. Perhaps they’re discussing what to do now?”

Halordin raised his brows, and looked towards the fields as well, his keen eyesight instantly spotting the makeshift camp that was nearing completion. “Ah...good, then! I wonder if we’ll be called in to hold counsel with them soon.”

He felt Badari shrug beside him. “I wouldn’t be surprised if Aragorn proposed a plan to march up to the Black Gate and challenge Sauron himself, to be frank,” she said. Halordin tilted his head down to look at her. “And would you follow him?”

“Aye. I would. If a plan as crazy as that can save Arda, somehow...” She continued after a moment's hesitation,  “and what of you? Would you follow me to what would likely be our death?”

Halordin smiled crookedly, wrapping an arm around her, leaning into her. “Always.” 

  



End file.
